


sweet games

by wrizard



Series: Taking Chances [1]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Crying During Sex, Dirty Talk, Gratuitous shenanigans, Handcuffs, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Megaera and Thanatos cameos, Modern AU, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Scratching, Spanking, Trans Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Verbal Humiliation, background Dionysus/Hypnos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29799843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrizard/pseuds/wrizard
Summary: "Did your girlfriend just order me to fuck you?”“A little,” you say. “You don’t have to, it’s all in fun.”He actually rolls back onto the floor, giggling. “No, I really do."Hypnos is bored. Zagreus has some free time. Lucky for them, Meg has a great idea.
Relationships: Hypnos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Taking Chances [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210358
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	sweet games

**Author's Note:**

> Content notes: In this story, trans Zagreus has a bunch of enthusiastic kinky sex with cis Hypnos. See end notes for clarification on Zag's terms for his body parts. In addition, Hypnos' attempts at meanness can shade into the slut-shamey, but Zagreus is very into it. Mind the tags, y'all, and have fun!

“Zag, come on, please?” Hypnos says, soft doe eyes, wheedling smile and all. “Please let me suck your dick?”

You roll your eyes and shove your t-shirt drawer closed. The damn thing sticks like hell in the humidity, so you have to hip-check it a couple of times to actually slide it home. “You have a boyfriend.”

From his lounging spot on your unmade bed, Hypnos chirps, “I sure do! And he also wants me to suck your dick.” He’s hanging his head over the edge, sharp grin upside-down. “If I send him pics, I can get you free weed.”

You grit your teeth and toss the last of your clean boxers into your underwear drawer, next to your binder and sports bras. “I also have a boyfriend. Who is your brother.”

“And who’s Megaera, monogamous chopped liver?”

With a bit of wiggling, you get that drawer closed, too. Hypnos is sprawled out over the rest of your laundry, and he’s not going to move even if you start pulling it out from under his butt. It’s all going to be wrinkled to shit. You frown at Hypnos. (You don’t actually care that much, but it’s the principle of the thing.) “It’s still new. I’m not going to fuck around with our relationship like that.”

“It’s not fucking around, it’s just,” Hypnos waggles his eyebrows, “fucking _around_.”

“What you just said is nothing. Complete nonsense.”

“Your face is nonsense,” he says.

With a grand sigh, you flop down beside your incredibly weird upside-down roommate-slash-childhood-companion, letting your head fall right on his belly. He wheezes, and you amicably slap him on the arm. “We haven’t had The Talk yet.”

“You were open with Meg, though! And Than! Why not both?”

“Read a book,” you say. “We’re being _ethical_.”

Hypnos blows a raspberry. “Boring.”

You roll onto your side and snuggle into his skinny belly, nuzzling the edge of his crop sweater. It stinks, familiarly, of weed and house party sweat. “You’re not rolling, are you?” you say. “You smell like a Tarty Party.”

He laughs, bouncing your head a little. “No, I’m sober. Didn’t even go to Tartarus. Just popped over to the Olympus house last night to check up on Dio and didn’t feel like changing. He had, like, a mushroom party or something, with his shitty cousin? Smoked out his aunt’s place.”

“How late were you out?”

“Eh.” Hypnos waves his hand. “Sunrise? A little later?”

You shake your head, feeling a bit of hair gel crisping against Hypnos’ skin. “It’s three in the afternoon, why the fuck haven’t you showered.”

“I’m building up a patina,” he says. “Give me your phone.”

“It’s in the bathroom,” you lie.

Hypnos twists, curling up and catching your neck between his thighs and stuffing his hand into your back pocket, where your phone actually is. You flail, slapping at his hips and shoving at his legs. “Fuck,” you yelp, “let go, you little shit,” and you wiggle like an fish.

“Nah,” Hypnos pants, as you try to squirm out of his weird leg-headlock. “What’s your passcode.”

“I’m going to bite you,” you hiss.

“Mm, that’s not it,” he says. There’s a little buzz. “Ha! You Really need to change your passwords more often. Who should I text first, my sweet dear brother or your ex-ex-domme?”

“Hypnos, I am really actually going to bite you,” you insist. He’s got your face shoved up right against his ass, and his leggings are already kind of in your mouth.

“Kinky.”

You bite him.

“Fuck,” he screeches, “you got my fucking nut,” and rolls you both off the bed.

You land on your back with a grunt, still caught in Hypnos’ thighs and stuffed face-first into his crotch. He’s actually sort of choking you. You kick out and flail at where you think his chest might be. Gods, he’s still got your fucking _phone_. “H’nos, l’go” you try, but it’s muffled by space fabric.

“That’s what you get for being a nut muncher,” he says. “Hey, I found your group text!”

With a surge of panic, you try a full-on alligator roll, but Hypnos has you pinned. Sometimes you forget his older brother is a Muay-Thai expert.

“Hey, baaaabes,” Hypnos narrates. “My very sexy roommate and best friend forever has offered kindly to explode my brain with his extensive oral sex experience, but I am an itty bitty widdle baby who needs permission before I go to the potty, so can I have a sexy sexy playdate pwetty pwease. Heart emoji, bottom face emoji, sweatdrop. And… sent.”

You fall still, dropping your arms and head in defeat.

Hypnos climbs off of you with a smug little noise, slipping down to sit next to your head. He drops your phone on your chest. “Seriously. 4-3-2-1? Are you kidding?”

“If you didn’t keep breaking into my personal electronics, my password would be fine,” you hiss.

Your phone buzzes.

“Ah, fuck,” you say, and fumble to unlock it.

_From: Than_

_Hypnos, give my boyfriend his phone back._

And, privately:

_From: My Beautiful Hot Sexy Boyfriend_

_Can I call you?_

“Fuck,” you yelp. “Hypnos, you dick, he texted me a _we need to talk_.”

“No he didn’t,” Hypnos says. “Stop being dramatic.”

With nerves rising in your throat, you respond.

_To: My Beautiful Hot Sexy Boyfriend_

_he gave it back :P u want to talk now ?_

_From: My Beautiful Hot Sexy Boyfriend_

_Sure. Just a minute._

“If he dumps me, I’m going to murder you,” you announce. “To death.”

“He’s not going to dump you, you dingus,” Hypnos says.

You glare. He’s right – Than is far too sweet to try to dump you via phone. He’d probably take you out to dinner or something to talk it over first, because he pretends to be a stuffy dick, but he’s actually got a soft, chewy marshmallow centre.

(Actually, he _is_ a stuffy dick, but that part only comes out when he’s stressed. Which is always, because his work hours are wild and he doesn’t get paid enough. But other than that.)

Your phone rings, a sweet little chiptune melody Dusa found you never had the heart to change. You drag yourself up to sitting, letting your shoulders rest on the side of your bed, and swipe to answer. “Hey, Than.”

“ _Hey,_ ” Thanatos says, voice crackling. “ _Is he still with you?_ ”

You shift a little, looking at Hypnos. “Yeah, he’s here. He’s just being an asshole, don’t worry about it.”

“ _No, I… hm. I wanted to call you anyways. Meg’s here._ ”

Your eyes open wide. “Oh, uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything?”

“ _You didn’t do anything wrong. We just – hey, Meg, what are you –_ “

Another voice comes through, this time Meg’s gorgeous rasp. “ _Zagreus._ _Pass me to Hypnos, please._ ”

You supress a shiver. You literally can’t remember the last time Meg said “please” to anyone outside of work. “Sure. Uh. Yeah, here.” You hold out the phone to Hypnos.

Hypnos looks at you like you’re passing him a live grenade, then shuts his eyes tight and takes it. “Heeeey, Megaera, what’s up.”

You can’t hear what she’s saying, but Hypnos’ face goes through a gamut of expressions – first discomfort, then some sort of wide-eyed terror, then a sneaky sideways sort of planning face. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Then he winces like a scolded puppy. 

“Message received, My Goddess,” Hypnos squeaks. “I will not pressure someone into sex, ever in my life, even if it is funny or pretend, and especially not my good friend your boy toy Zagreus.”

You grin at him. He slaps at your arm and mouths, _she’s terrifying_ , and you slap him right back. You’re about to launch into a full slap fight when Megaera says something that makes Hypnos’ eyes go wide.

“Oh,” Hypnos says. “Uh. Yes. I would. I would definitely. Uh. …Shit. Okay I am passing you back to him now, okay, here he is.” He shoves the phone back into your hands.

You roll your eyes. “Hey.”

“ _Hello, Zagreus,_ ” says Meg. “ _We have something to ask you, and please think about it before you answer._ ”

“Okay,” you try, looking at Hypnos, who remains a little shell-shocked.

“ _Do you want to fuck him?_ ”

Oh.

Huh.

“Is there a right answer?”

“ _No right answer. Just the truth. Think first_.”

The most wonderful thing about Meg is that she’s never, ever lied to you. Every bit of your relationship has been honest and clear, even the complicated, shitty parts. When you broke up, it was awful and terrible and you hated every second mostly because neither of you actually fucked up; you just grew in different directions. And, after you and Than started dating, Meg was an incredible friend. You love Than, love him down to his bones, but when he’s uncomfortable he tends to say what he thinks people want to hear. Meg is a clarifier. She takes a tangled situation and lays it out in neat, manageable chunks. And then, less than a week ago, when she finally took you and sat the three of you down and hashed out all the scary feelings and boundaries, she became the best ex-ex girlfriend you could hope for.

So when she says she wants the truth, you want to give her exactly that.

Do you want to fuck Hypnos?

Gods. Maybe? You’ve thought about it before. Hypnos on his back. Lips stretched around a cock. Moaning underneath you. Moaning _above_ you. Rocking his hips –

You have to actively stop yourself from making a pathetic little whining noise. Ugh ugh ugh. Okay, stepping back a bit.

Objectively, Hypnos is attractive – he’s got those long, pale eyelashes and clever, sleepy eyes, and even with his tall, thin frame and terrible posture, he’s got the poise and dexterity of a model (until you get to know him and find out he’s actually a clumsy goof, but that’s not the point, here). His hair is soft and lovely, and he laughs in a snorty, high-pitched little burst of giggles that makes you feel a bit gooey inside. And, gods, he’s got long, smooth legs, longer than Than’s and less densely muscled but shaped in slim curves that remind you of a deer or a fairy or something. Your type has never been particularly specific, outside of a weakness for people who could kick your ass, and Hypnos never really figured into that category for you – but, honestly, you can’t say you haven’t thought about his clever mouth, his quick fingers, his cute, flat little ass in those lacy panties you bought him as a joke and spotted later in his laundry basket.

You can feel yourself blushing as Hypnos raises an eyebrow.

Last year, you walked in on him fucking a grand total of three times. Once, he was blowing his beau-of-the-week in the kitchen, lips stretched and fist pumping at the base of the guy’s dick. Hypnos was all curled up on his knees, looking up adoringly and humming. You didn’t interrupt, just turned around and locked yourself in your room for the next few hours. The second time, you needed his spare key and opened his door to find him sprawled out on his stomach, getting railed by Dio, his sort-of-boyfriend and dealer, a massive man twice his breadth, biting down on his neck as he whimpered. And then there was that time you walked into the apartment to find him riding the shit out of someone you didn’t recognise, pressing them down to the living room carpet and bouncing roughly on their hips.

Gods. Of course you thought about it. Every time, you thought, what would that be like – if that was you, fucking him, spreading him out, making him scream. And you’d joke with him, keeping up with his innuendoes and helping him keep track of his meds and picking him up at the clinic when you both went for your regular testing.

Hypnos is biting his lip, now, and you follow the movement. He’s got some smears of glitter from last night’s lip gloss glinting around his wet, pink mouth.

“ _So?_ ” says Megaera.

“Yes. I would,” you say, determined to make sure your voice doesn’t crack.

Megara hums, pleased. (A little happy shiver runs up your back.) “ _Now put me on speaker._ ”

You tap the speaker icon and lay the phone on the floor between you and Hypnos. “Uh, you’re on speaker now, go ahead.”

Hypnos makes a panicked face and flails his arms. You shrug helplessly.

“ _Okay, boys,_ ” Megara says, a playful, smoky edge to her voice that makes your gut jump. “ _Me and Than were talking, earlier, and I thought we should clear the air. Zagreus?_ ”

Your back straightens. “Yes, Meg?”

“ _If you’re okay with staying open, so are we. Same terms as before. We don’t need permission, but we stay safe and we tell each other. Sound good?_ ”

A rush of relief, as a weight flows off your shoulders. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“ _Good._ ” She’s smiling. You can hear it. “ _Now. I think, given the circumstances, I have a game I’d like to play._ ”

Your heart leaps, and you feel heat crawl all the way down body. Holy shit. That’s her cue for starting a scene. Hypnos looks at you with eyes wide, and you can’t stop your grin.

“ _Hypnos, you want to play with our boy._ ”

“Uh,” Hypnos says, “I, uh, yeah. Yes.” A little flush is rising on his cheeks.

“ _Our boy wants to play with you, too. Right, Zag?_ ”

“Yes, Meg,” you say, and it trips right out of your mouth. “I do.”

“ _Good_ ,” she says, and you preen a little, already buzzing at the edges with adrenalin and excitement. _“Now. I’m going to give you an hour. And you’re going to have fun with each other. Hypnos, you’re going to make Zagreus come with your mouth, as many times as you like. And then you’re going to get his cuffs from the bedside table, and you’re going to bind his hands above his head, and you’re going to fuck him until he cries. Do you know how to use cuffs safely?_ ”

Hypnos, completely poleaxed, stumbles over his words. “Yes, I, uh, yes ma’am.”

“ _Yes, Megaera._ ”

“Yes, Megaera,” he squeaks.

“ _Good. I trust you to take good care of what’s mine._ ”

A rush of arousal shudders through you. You actually groan a little. Hypnos stares at you like he’s about to combust.

“ _When he comes on your cock,_ ” Megaera says, nonchalant, like she’s ordering a meal at a restaurant, “ _you’re going to take a picture, and send it to me. So I know how well you’re taking care of him._ ”

“I can – I can do that,” Hypnos says, and swallows audibly.

“ _Good. Don’t call back. Have fun, boys._ ”

The phone clatters a little, then Thanatos says, “ _Hey, Zagreus._ ”

“Hey,” you say, a little strangled.

“ _Love you. Have fun and don’t ever tell me about it._ ”

You laugh, a surge of delight in your heart. “Love you too.”

“ _Bye. See you on Monday._ ”

“See you. Bye.”

Than hangs up.

You’re left staring at your cell phone, curled up on the beige carpet of your terrible bedroom in your cheap apartment. Outside, traffic rumbles by, and a nearby train clatters across an overpass. Your room is quiet, save for the soft sounds of breathing and the heavy thud of your pulse. Hypnos sits across from you, tense like he thinks you’re going to jump up and deck him or something. 

Fuck. Okay. Time to hash this out.

“So,” you try.

“Yeah,” Hypnos says, voice cracking.

God, he’s so cute. You smile a little. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck just happened.”

“You got Megged.”

He laughs out loud. “What the fuck.”

You smile, bashful. “I know. Isn’t she amazing.”

“I guess, I just - did your girlfriend just order me to fuck you?”

“A little,” you say. “You don’t have to, it’s all in fun.”

He actually rolls back onto the floor, giggling. “No, I really do,” he says. “Holy shit. I think this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” He reaches out one limp hand to pat at your knee. “What the fuck.”

Huh.

“Wait, you actually want to?” you say. “I thought you were just being a dick.”

He stares. “Do I – Zag, I was literally bugging you into letting me suck your dick, what the fuck do you think, of course I wanna fuck you. I’ve been dying to since we were in high school.”

You sit up straight, again. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, you dumbass,” he snorts. “Threw me for a loop til you came out. Like, what the fuck, how are you so hot to me, oh wait you’re a guy, duh.”

You tut and reach out to pat his head. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“It _is_. You’re built like a tiny, sexy Dorito.”

It takes a minute of nervous, fumbling laughter to get you both settled. Hypnos perches on your bed with his legs pulled up, nested in your clean sweatpants and curled up against the headboard. You’ve chosen to sit daintily at the end of the bed, facing him. He’s blushing.

“So,” you drawl.

“So!” he croaks.

“We should… talk.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

You squint at him. He’s stimming a little, rolling his fingers together like he does when he’s overwhelmed. But he’s got a bright look in his eyes, like he’s about to do something huge and dumb and impulsive. Excitement. Nervousness. Mischief.

(The last time he looked at you that way, you broke into your dad’s house to steal his address book and a couple bottles of wine, then flew to Greece to find your birth mother.)

“What do you think about Meg’s plan.”

Hypnos visibly swallows. “Sounds… great.”

“Yeah?” you prod. “You wanna go down on me? Fuck me ‘til I cry?”

“Sure, yep, sounds fun,” he squeaks, eyes blown wide.

Aw. He’s so cute. For being a bit of an exhibitionist, he’s actually quite modest. His wild streak only really comes out when he’s rolling, or when he feels safe – and even then, it’s rare to see him indulge. 

Then again, he’s always been pretty flirty with you?

…Oh.

You’re dumb.

“So, uh,” you cough, delighted and a little thrown, “you know about, uh, me and Meg. Like. I sub for her, and it’s very fun and consensual for us both. But, uh, me and Than can be pretty vanilla, most of the time.”

He screws up his face. “Yuck. No Than talk.”

“Fine, you goof. I’m just saying we don’t have to get too heavy or anything. It’s not _not_ fun for me, if it’s simple,” you say.

“Okay,” Hypnos says. “Got it. What if I want to, though.”

Your cock actually pulses. “That’s… fine. Yeah.”

“Okay. Good. Cool.”

You both marinate in the awkward silence for a minute.

“Um, boundaries,” you say.

He coughs. “Oh. Uh. I dunno.”

“I can… go first?”

Hypnos nods, and you dig back into your memory for your list.

“Okay. Condoms, number one, that’s mandatory. Scratches, hickeys and biting are fine wherever but not on, like, my face. No blood, no impact play with anything but hands, if it’s the first time. If it’s not spit, come, or lube I don’t want it on me. Don’t go too hard with the feminising language. Call me names, but it’s my cock, my hole, and my ass. And, uh, no fucking about with consent play on the first time.”

Hypnos looks like you just hit him with a shovel.

“Do you have any questions,” you say, like it’s a class presentation.

He looks at you for another moment, mouth open, then says, “Impact play?”

You can feel yourself flush across your chest. You’re a matched set, now, Hypnos with his pale skin all pink, and you with your olive tan going tomato-red. Pretending to be nonchalant, you shrug. “I like getting slapped around a little. Not, like, punched. On the butt, chest, thighs, shoulders. Face, if we talk about it first. Spanking is fine.”

“You like getting slapped across the face?”

“Sometimes,” you say. “I’m being vulnerable, here, don’t be a dick about it.”

Hypnos groans. “No, sorry. That’s just. Really fucking hot. God.” He buries his face in his hands.

A little smug, pleased feeling rears up in your chest. You push it back down with prejudice. “Anything else,” you press.

“Chest? Um, terms? I know we joke about tits and stuff but like…”

Oh. You forgot about that. “Uh, tits is okay but don’t, like, lean on it. If you want to be mean to me, there are better ways than getting shitty about gender.”

“Amen,” he says. “Do you like that? When people are mean to you?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Oh, rude,” he laughs, bright and high-pitched, and it makes your heart sparkle a little.

“I, yeah,” you say, looking away from his sweet, delighted face. “It can be fun. When people get a little mean.”

“Noted,” Hypnos chirps. He’s got his shrewd face on, now, which makes your heart speed up. “And, uh, Meg said to, um. Fuck you ‘til you cry. You like that? Crying?”

 _Guh_. “Yeah. Uh. Yes. From like, intensity.”

“Okay,” he says, and tilts his head like he’s solving a puzzle. “And the tying up?”

Fuck. You are completely off your game today. “Oh, right, uh. I like being held down. The cuffs are leather, they’re really comfortable, I’ve used them a lot and I know how to get out of them if I need, there’s a little emergency pull tab,” you say.

“Got it.” Hypnos fidgets a bit. “Uh, I like that, too. Being held down. So I get that.”

You smile a little goofily. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Even the tips of his ears are going red. It’s adorable. “Uh. I don’t like getting hit, or whatever, but I’m good slapping you around, if you want that. Probably not on the face but other places.”

A jolt of heat goes right to your dick. You have to actually close your eyes for a second. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.”

“Cool. And, uh. Yay compatibility, I would _love_ to be mean to you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, but he rushes on.

“For other stuff, um. Don’t call me sir or anything. Just my name. And, um. I have no practical experience with innies, but I’ve done the research, so like, tell me what feels good and I’ll do it.”

“Research?”

“Amateur porn,” he says with dignity, “is great.”

You’re smiling at him again, a huge, bright grin that’s hurting your cheeks a little.

He smiles back at you, a little dimple up high on his cheek that only pops out when he’s really, really pleased.

“So,” you say, faux thoughtful, “I’m free today.”

“Oh, yeah, me too.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Fuck. You’re just sitting there, smiling at each other. He’s looking at your shoulders, tracing the line of your muscles, lingering on your forearms. You flex, and he laughs a bit, nervous and excited. You cannot _wait_ to wreck him. Or for him to wreck you.

Heart hammering in your chest, you lean forward, pulling your legs up onto the bed to crawl over to him. You stop maybe a foot from his face. “Hypnos,” you say, “do you want to play Meg’s game with me?”

He grins, and nods. “I would love to.”

Fuck yes fuck yes fuck yes. Your breath speeds up and you lean in, intent on catching his lips – but he dodges. “Hey,” you laugh.

“Just one sec,” he says, and whips out his phone from somewhere. “Gotta get proof.”

“Proof?” You let him pull your face up to his, posing you both for a selfie as he kisses your cheek. The camera makes a deeply obnoxious _click-ping_ , and Hypnos pulls it back to type frantically.

You stay leaning over him, watching his eyes. They’re darting around like mad, with pupils wide and dark. With a little _swoosh_ , he sends something. You wait, politely.

“Dionysus,” he finally says. “I wasn’t kidding about the free weed.” He tosses his phone onto your bedside table.

God, he’s adorable. You laugh and flop down next to him, snuggling up to his side like you used to when you were younger. “I don’t even smoke that much.”

“Then sell it for rent money, duh,” he says. With a happy sigh, he shoves his face in your hair and nuzzles your head. It’s still crispy with gel, but he doesn’t seem to mind, so you don’t mention it.

You press your face into his thin, warm neck and hum. “Wanna make out a little?”

He giggles and brings a hand to your face, stroking your cheek. It feels… really, really nice. Comforting. Gentle. “Yeah. We should do that,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you repeat. You lean into his hand.

“Aw, you’re such a fucking bottom,” he laughs, delighted.

“No ‘m not.” You grin, and turn to kiss his palm. “Just like it when people take care of me, that’s all.”

“That’s literally what I just said.” He looks at you, gaze heavy, and leans in.

A pulse of adrenalin leaps in your chest, and he’s kissing you.

Your first half-stunned thought is, _not like Than at all_. You didn’t expect it to be, really; Than kisses gently and quickly, sweet as sugar, until he warms up and lets himself become scorching, demanding and hot and hard. Hypnos never seemed the type to do either.

Now, he kisses you with sensual languor, pressing your lips together slow-sweet and relentless. He’s slightly tacky with traces of melon-flavoured lip gloss, and bitter with leftover smoke. He presses down onto your mouth with steady intent, and you want to cheer and laugh and whoop because he is _perfect_ and you had _no idea_.

You grin into his lips and push back, upping the pace a bit and losing yourself in hazy delight. He’s still petting at your jaw. You feel like purring, all warm and snug against him, curling up around his thin, long body.

Against your mouth, he says, “You can touch me, you know, I’m not fragile,” then dives back in.

Well, that sounds like a challenge. Gently, you ease up onto your elbow and lean over him, guiding him back to lay down in the pillows, keeping your lips moving in soft rhythm. You carefully roll on top, letting your weight press over his ribs, his hips, his legs. (He has an easy six inches on you, but you’re all muscle where he’s trim beanpole, so it works out in the end.) “You said you like being held down?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything, so you pull back a bit to look at him properly.

Oh. He’s got his eyes closed, grinning like a goof and shimmying his shoulders a little. He’s very, very happy. Good job, you.

“Y’r heavy,” he says, delight in his voice. “It’s niiice.”

You chuckle. “I’ll remember that next time you want the weighted blanket.”

“Yay,” he says.

Too damn cute. You lean back down to give him a quick peck on the nose.

He squiggles about under you to kiss you on the chin, then the jaw, then the corner of your mouth, before you give in and kiss him right back. The syrupy slowness is back, with an edge of pressure and a little sharpness. You feel yourself melt, going goopy and pleased and smug as you kiss and kiss and kiss.

Hypnos rests his long hands in the small of your back, fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt. His cold fingers trail along the line of your waistband. Fuck. It’s laundry day, and you waited too long, as usual, so you’re solidly commando in your baggy gym shorts – which he can definitely feel.

He pulls off your lips with an annoyed little noise. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers. “It’s so rude, how hot you are.”

You laugh, quietly. “I go to the gym for a reason.”

“Yeah, to look at hot dudes getting sweaty,” he says primly. He slides one chilly hand up under your shirt and you squeak. “Get this off, I wanna see your nasty abs.”

“They’re not nasty,” you say, and pull off your shirt with a neat, practiced movement and fling it at your chest of drawers. “They’re sexy.”

“One does not preclude the other.” Hypnos wriggles up into the pillows until he’s sort of sitting up. “Show me show me show me.”

“Alright, already,” you laugh. You sit back on your heels, kneeling with his legs caught under you, and straighten up.

You know you’re hot. You got pretty lucky, with your mother’s slim hips and your father’s broad shoulders, but you do spend a fair amount of time working to make yourself look this good. At first it was just to help get your serotonin in order, but working out has been a really nice way to take control of your self-image and feel strong. The Mirror isn’t exactly a nice spot, but it’s pretty damn queer-friendly and nobody gives a shit what you look like so long as you’re there to work and not to cruise. And, once you started on T, the work got easier and muscles built faster, and then you started those fight classes with Achilles…

Despite all that, taking off your shirt still feels weird. It’s fine with Meg, and it’s fine with Than, and it’s been fine with Hypnos until right this second. But he’s about to look at you differently. Like someone he wants.

So, to break the mood, you flex like a bodybuilder and proclaim in a deliberately terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger accent, “I am the keeng of moscles.”

Hypnos snorts and smacks at your leg. “What the fuck.”

“Do you not want to see… my moscles?” You flex into a weird twisty pose that probably looks like you’re trying to kiss your own butt.

He sniggers. “You’re so fucking weird, oh my god, stop moving.”

That feels a little better. You relax a bit, letting go of your arms and holding still. Hypnos looks at you carefully. Not critically, which is nice, and which you kind of expected since that’s how he does everything, but with a sort of smug enjoyment. His eyes rake over your shoulders and your boobs, following down the line of your heart surgery scars to linger on your abs. (You really wish the scars weren’t so brutal, but they didn’t take the time to worry about cosmetics when you were a newborn with no heartbeat.)

“So?”

“Good moscles. A plus,” he says, and grins. “Now get back here.”

You laugh and let him pull you into his lap, his arms snaking around your waist to reel you in for another kiss. Yum. He runs his hands up and down your spine appreciatively, letting his manicured nails scrape lightly over your skin. It sends pleased little shivers ricocheting through you, and you moan.

“Ooh, nice,” he says into your mouth, and scratches a hard line down your back.

“Fuck,” you gasp, as it lights up your nerves like electricity. “Fuck fuck shit. Ah.”

He looks at you like he’s won the lottery. “Oh, baby boy, I am going to wreck the shit out of you.”

“You’re like ten months older than me,” you complain vaguely, heat rushing through you in a flood.

“Ten long, long months,” he murmurs, and catches your face in his hands to _maul_ you with his mouth. He dives in tongue-first, which is a little gross because he still tastes like last night’s tobacco and weed, but you can’t muster the will to care because he is sweeping past your teeth and twining with you and generally kissing you senseless. He holds your head still with his hands, digging his fingers in your crispy hair, and sucks on the tip of your tongue. A hot pulse of need hits you right in the junk. You groan wordlessly.

He pulls away to attack your neck, sucking a dark bruise right under your jawline.

“Oh, fuck, Hyps,” you pant, eyes wide, clinging to his crop sweater. “I have work tomorrow, you dick.”

“Shoulda said that in the rules,” he murmurs, and licks a hot stripe up your jugular.

You can’t help but laugh. As he mangles you deliciously, you sneak your hands up to his soft, curly hair and tangle your fingers in it. It’s so fine and smooth. A lot of people think he bleaches it, but it’s just the same weird platinum blonde he shares with Than. You’ve seen the array of paraben- and sulphate-free shampoos both of them hoard in their showers. For a half-moment you’re glad you didn’t grow up at their house. Then you think about your dad, and abruptly don’t want to think about it any more.

You roll yourself up against Hypnos, grinding a little, and rubbing your chest on him. “You gonna let me see you too?” you say, voice cracking as he nibbles at your neck like a fucking vampire.

“Mmmokay, hold on,” he says, and pulls back to fight his way out of his sweater. It is, like everything he does, kind of adorable. It’s a women’s sweater, so the collar is a little tight, and it catches on his ears. He swears under his breath.

Hypnos was always a skinny kid, and didn’t grow out of it the way Than did. His wrists are thin, his hips are small, and he looks like he could blow over in a strong breeze. But he’s strong, stronger than he looks, with a solid core and flexible, acrobatic limbs. (Sometimes too flexible, you think, remembering the many times you’ve had to help him pop his shoulder back into place.) Besides, you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times. Even with his shirt on you could point out his idiosyncrasies: the tiny, regrettable stick-n-poke happy face on his ribs, a few assorted scars from wiping out before he finally gave up skateboarding, the little lonely freckle right on the edge of his belly-button.

It’s not so different now. His body looks familiar, and comfortable. The flush across his chest is new, but you admire the rest with a warm grin.

Finally Hypnos wrestles the sweater off. He tosses it in the same direction as your t-shirt. His hair is a bit of a poofy cloud, now, all static and curl. “Like what you see?”

“Mhm,” you hum. Then, struck with honesty, you say, “You’re so cute, man.”

His face twists. “Weird. Don’t like that.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No, it’s not bad, just weird. Um. Compliments.”

You nod in solidarity. Compliments are hard. “You want me to stop?”

He thinks, then shakes his head. “Just… not cute, today?”

“Okay.” Cute will stay in your head. “Beautiful? Sexy?”

“Sexy is fine,” Hypnos says, staring at your nose.

You can work with that. “Convenient, because you are _very_ sexy.”

“Psh,” he says, but he’s blushing pink. “Come back here.”

“Will do, cap’n,” you say, and lean in, over-aware of your skin.

You kiss him, first, to get back into the feeling of it, and before long it’s easy to press yourself flat to his chest as he kneads at your back. There’s a little softness in his chest, which plays nicely with the muscle on yours and the squish of your boobs. (Your boobs were pretty small to start with, and with the way you work out they’re not super noticeable; at this point, they’re mostly ignorable, and occasionally a fun bonus. Besides, you don’t ever want to have another surgery again in your life ever, especially one on your chest.)

He’s scratching softly over your shoulder blades, sensitising and lighting up your nerves. With every movement of his lips, you find yourself humming and groaning, hips grinding into his lap. You’re probably leaving a wet patch on his leggings.

“About Meg’s game,” he says, breaking from your lips with a gross-but-crazy-hot little string of saliva, “she didn’t say anything about me coming. D’sat mean I don’t get to, or that I get free reign?”

It takes a second to haul your brain back on track. “Uh. Second one, probably, you haven’t played together one-on-one yet so she’s not going to give you a rule like that,” you say, and then register what is actually being said. “Holy fuck.”

“So to paraphrase,” he chirps, “I get to make you come as many times as I want as long as some of it is with my mouth, and I get to come as many times as I want as long as I fuck you ‘til you cry.”

You swallow audibly. “Yeah, that… sounds about right.”

“Cool.” He grins, obviously plotting evil. Underneath you, his dick twitches.

When you caught him fucking in the living room, you got a good look at him – at his wide, pale eyes, at his lithe limbs, at the smooth roll of his hips – but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually ogle his dick before you snuck off in horny shame. It might be like Than’s? But it feels maybe a little thicker, hot and heavy and hard, trapped in his weird space leggings and prodding at your ass. With a groan of pleasure, you let yourself softly press down. His hips twitch up. A little surge of accomplishment zaps right to your cock.

Hypnos slides his hand down to grope at your butt, catching the meshy fabric of your shorts in his grip. “Hey, Zag,” he says. “Take your pants off.”

You actually have to close your eyes for a second and breathe. “Fuck me _running_ ,” you shiver.

He raises his eyebrows, leaving the obvious joke at the wayside, and hums, squeezing and kneading at your butt like it’s a cat toy. “Come on, baby boy. Wanna look at you.”

“I cannot even believe that that is working for me,” you gasp, “you are _ten months_ – ” and you feel him wriggle his hands past your waistband to grab at your bare skin.

“Baby baby baby boy.” Without missing a beat, he slips a finger down and teases at your asshole.

You yelp, arching into the touch and throwing your head back. “Fuck oh my god, ha, okay.”

He rubs around your rim with gentle pressure, giggling into your neck. You want to snap at him, do something to halt the hot flush of embarrassment crawling over your neck, but you can barely think, let alone speak.

“Should I fuck you here?” he chuckles, pressing in the tip of a finger. It drags and hurts a little in the best possible way. “Get you all sloppy, make that tight little ass all mine?”

A high-pitched noise slips out of your mouth.

“Ooh, nice,” he says, and pushes a little harder, almost breaching you with his thin, pointed finger. “You’re such a soft touch.”

 _Ghhh_. “Hyps you gotta stop with that or I’m actually gonna come,” you blurt, heat rushing over your skin and tension ratcheting behind your dick.

“Isn’t that my job?” he says, winningly. “You’re so sweet and easy, the best baby slut around, and now I get to play with you just how I like.”

Your hips twitch, and you can feel how fucking slick you are, how hard he is under you, the rough grind of fabric on your hypersensitive cock, the friction of his finger. There’s a little prickle of tears at the corner of your eye, which, ugh, but they aren’t yet rolling down your burning cheeks. The knot of searing arousal in your gut flutters as Hypnos presses his dry finger further and further past comfortable, into a painful piercing pressure. _Inside_ you.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Wanna feel you come on me.”

With a teakettle whine, you press back into his touch, grinding your cock down and rubbing over his dick. Your shorts are a swampy mess, and you can feel slick on your thighs. His finger is a bright, sharp point in your haze of pleasure, a focus for the swirling intensity sparkling through your nerves. “Fuck,” you yelp, “bite me, come on.”

Hypnos makes a delighted little sound and nips at your throat. You growl, hips twitching, and he sniggers. “Harder?” He presses a sweet kiss onto the join of your neck to your shoulder. Then, he sinks in his teeth.

You probably yell. You can’t tell because you’re coming like you got hit by a fucking train.

It takes a minute for you to come back to yourself. You’re awash in shaky, scattered pleasure, fingers tingling and abs twitching. You’re leaning on Hypnos, your head resting on his shoulder as he kisses gently at your neck. He’s still got his finger on your asshole, but it’s blessedly still. You’re panting like you ran a five-minute mile.

“You good?” Hypnos murmurs.

You sort of grunt into his neck.

“Cool.” Slowly, he slips his hands out of your shorts. Your whole body shivers. “That was fucking crazy.”

You laugh, breathy, and let him sort of shift you around. After a minute of fussing, he’s got his back against the headboard and his legs bent up, with you cradled in his lap, leaning back on his thighs. You did, in fact, leave a huge wet spot on his leggings, right over where his dick strains at the thin fabric. His skin is mottled blush-pink, and his eyes, usually so alien-pale, are dark with lust. You relax against his legs, letting your eyes fall closed.

Gods. He’s so fucking hot. The second you can feel your legs properly, you are going to suck the hell out of his dick.

“You usually go off that fast?” he says.

You shake your head, grinning.

From his silence you can tell he’s giving you a Look.

“Lotta foreplay,” you insist.

“Right.”

Yeah, you’re a soft touch. Easy lay. Always have been; you like feeling good, and you _really_ like making other people feel good. Since you escaped from the clutches of your broken fucking family, you’ve had plenty of partners, and managed to enjoy yourself pretty well with all of them (maybe not Theseus, but he was kind of a forest of red flags from the beginning, and you can really only blame yourself for that one – apparently he’s engaged, now, so more power to him, and your condolences to his fiancé). Regardless, you go off easy, and you come back begging for more.

Right now, you’re about ready to jump back in the game.

You wiggle your toes. No more tingles. Calves are fine, thighs are good, hips are – oh boy, you are still so fucking hard your dick aches. No more wiggling the hips. “Hypnos?” you say, opening your eyes a crack. “Check in?”

He’s fully ogling you, staring with a devilish smile at your tits. “I’m great.”

“Wanna keep going?”

He looks up at your face, eyebrows raised. “Do you?”

“I asked first,” you snort.

He sticks out his tongue, then reaches out to –

 _Flick_ your _nipple_ , what the fuck is wrong with your friends? You clap your hands to your chest, covering the smarting sting. “Fucking _ow_ ,” you hiss.

He chortles. “Teach you to sass me with your tits out.”

“I was being _responsible_!”

“Thought you liked it rough,” he chirps.

With a surge of energy, you lunge at him, pulling him into your chest and noogie-ing the shit out of his head. He screeches like an angry rain frog. “Consent is sexy,” you grunt, scrubbing your knuckles in his hair.

“Agh,” he says, “don’t noogie me while we’re fucking!”

“Well, I _was_ going to suck you off, but then you flicked my tit!”

You wrestle for an agreeable minute or two. At one point, you are feeling annoyed and juvenile enough to maybe try farting on him. But you’re both still hard, so it would get very weird, very fast, and you let that impulse fall by the wayside.

Finally, he’s got you rolled on your back underneath him, with his wrists caught in your hands and his legs twisted up with yours. You’re pressed hip to hip, and his cock is a hot, heavy line against your crotch. He wiggles around to get his hands free, and it grinds him against you, hard.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

He stops still, and takes a close look at you. Then, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, he rolls his hips.

You moan. Heat rushes into your groin, curling up behind your cock.

“Yum,” he mutters, delighted.

You squirm against him, gripping at his wrists and letting your head fall back. The fabric of your shorts is a nasty mix of scratchy mesh and sticky wetness, and it clings to your hot thighs. “You gonna, _hah_ , do something about this?”

He grins and chuckles. “I was thinking about Meg’s game.”

Oh. Right. You sort of forgot, somehow, with all the making out and wrestling.

“And,” he continues, “how this all started because I’m dying to taste your cock.”

Your eyes go wide, and a rush of electric heat glitters across your skin. When he pulls at your hands, you let him go, and he plants his palms right on your chest, squeezing at your pecs.

“Hold that thought. God,” he says. “Is this what happens when you stop eating fast food?”

You push out your ribs a little, letting him play. It feels sharp and nice, like getting kneaded by a cat. “I never stopped eating fast food.”

His face of utter disgust catches you by surprise, and you guffaw. “You’re a monster,” he says, and pinches the muscle by your sternum. “This is unnatural.”

The pain sends a little spark skittering down your cock. “It’s hard work, not magic.”

“No one’s ever done hard work. It’s a myth.”

You let him pet at you for a bit. He rolls his fingers around your nipples, which feels really nice in a dull sort of way, and pinches, which hurts and _also_ feels really nice.

“Mmm, Zag, can I get my mouth on you?” he says, eyes roving your skin.

You nod so fast that it hurts your neck a bit. “Sure, yeah.”

“Nice,” he says appreciatively, and leans down to suck a nipple right into his mouth.

It jolts through you like a little zap, a spark of violet heat ratcheting tighter in your groin. Your heart rate ticks up, and you feel yourself clench. His hot, wet mouth suckles at you, breaking off to lick a thick stripe across the meat of your pec. He makes a meal of you, sucking and nibbling and licking everywhere he can reach, trailing from one side to the other and leaving a chain of tiny hickeys across the underside of your chest. You urge him along with moans and curses, petting at his shoulders when you think to. As he spends a full minute gnawing gently at the edge of your pectorals, a grinding-sharp sensation that has your hips twitching and your toes curled up, you can see him looking up at you through his eyelashes, half-hidden by his messy hair.

The visual alone is going to be getting you off for months, and the rough edge of his teeth with the lithe wetness of his tongue makes you very, very glad you came already.

Hypnos lifts his head, and his lips are wet and puffed with use. “Can I take your pants off now?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” you gasp. “You too, though.”

When he smiles, it’s a sunny, pleased beam that has your heart tight in your chest. He crawls back and fumbles off the bed, tugging at his leggings. He jumps a little, peeling them off with some “ick” sounds as he finally notices how wet you got him.

Keeping your eyes up, you tuck your thumbs in your waistband and slip off your shorts, tossing them off the bed to go to whatever mysterious place unwanted clothing spirits away.

Finally, Hypnos tugs the leggings off his ankles, almost overbalancing but jumping on one leg to stay upright. Then he’s left in –

“I knew you kept those,” you crow.

His ass, adorably flat, is flattered by a pair of lacy chain-store panties. They’re pretty modest, for mall lingerie – a soft purple fabric with elastic lace edging, with a low waistband and the butt cut slightly too short. The front has a goofy little cartoon cat on it, stretched out of shape by his hard-on. You remember spotting them in a bargain bucket and laughing until you cried.

“They’re comfortable,” he says, prim and proper.

“You look very nice.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

With a quick movement, he slips them down and kicks them off. Then, he turns to face you.

He is… exactly as you expected. Long legs, thin arms, gorgeous lean belly. But now you get to actually see his junk.

His cock is pale as the rest of him, shading to a ruddy red at the head. He’s uncut, like Than, but thicker, with a soft taper. Honestly, it’s really quite pretty. (You’ve seen your fair share of dicks, so you feel like you’re able to make that kind of call.) He’s got his pubes shaved, for some reason, and it looks a bit like he’s… more naked? Nakeder than he would otherwise.

Gods, did he shave his balls, too? They’re pretty smooth. Maybe it’s just that his hair is so light. Than’s hair gets darker on his body, but he also prefers to wax his legs, so who knows. Urgh. You have to stop thinking about both of them naked at the same time.

Hypnos is staring openly at your dick. You stretch out your legs and wiggle your hips a bit, letting him take it in.

It sticks out a little, poking from your generous Mediterranean bush. You’ve never really seen the point in shaving, and you like the way your dark body hair looks, so you usually just trim if it gets unruly. Hypnos doesn’t seem to mind either way – he’s got a look on his face like he won the lottery and the prize was free weed forever.

Feeling coy, you run one hand over your abs and down to your cock, then slowly drag a fingertip over the head. It feels amazing, a little shocky and raw from grinding on your shorts, but still nice enough to make your breath stutter. You’re so fucking wet that when you pull your finger away, there’s a little string of your come clinging to it.

“Holy shit,” Hypnos says.

“Like what you see?” you say, and your voice is low and rumbly and pleased in a way you didn’t expect.

“You have _cum gutters_.”

You chuckle. “Yep. You gonna come back over here, or…?”

“Yeah, fuck,” he mutters. “If we’re fucking, like, for real, later, I’m gonna need you to raw me like eight times a day.”

You probably should talk that out, but you’re technically on a time limit, and Hypnos is stalking over to you with his usually-sleepy eyes bright and sharp. You let him pounce on the bed and crawl up between your legs, settling on his elbows with his face hovering over your crotch.

“Wait, fuck, do you want, uh, dams or something?” he says, wincing. “’Cause I’ve only used condoms before.”

You consider. “Uh. No, it’s okay, I was literally with you when we got our tests back yesterday.”

“Cool. Okay.”

“Condoms later, though.”

“’Kay.” He smiles like sunshine.

Gods, he’s so fucking cute.

“Hi,” you grin.

“Hi.” He’s redder than you’ve ever seen, blotchy and flushed and pleased. Then, he looks at your junk. And keeps looking. “Fuck,” he hisses. “What do I do.”

“Not that complicated,” you say. “It’s a cock.”

“Yeah but there’s extra… stuff.”

“Thought you did your research.”

He makes a face at you. Well, he makes a face at your dick, but the intent is there.

You sigh a little and drop a hand to pet his head. “Start gentle, stick to my dick, if anything else comes up I’ll let you know.”

“Ha, comes up,” he says, and dips his head down.

Adorably, his first move is to press a light kiss to the tip of your cock. It’s a tiny, startling touch, like an unexpected tickle or a brush of fabric. You make a little noise, and he grins, leaning back down to press more firmly. He’s definitely taking from the cis dude blowjob playbook. It’s so sweet you kind of want to coo about it.

Then he looks up at you, sticks out his tongue flat and wide, and _licks_.

“Fugaahhh,” you say.

He doesn’t bother teasing. He just goes to town, laving at the head and around your shaft. His hands clutch at your hips, holding you tight as he does his best to lick your dick off.

You let your head fall back, shocks of arousal rocketing through your nerves. “Holy shit, Hypnos.”

“Mmyes?” he says, innocent as an angel, lips shiny from your come.

“Fucking get back down there.”

“Ask nicely,” he says.

You groan. “Please go back to performing oral sex on me.”

With a smug grin, he says, “Sucker. I’m doing this because I want to, not because you asked me,” and dives back in.

You watch as he gets his lips around your dick and slips the whole thing into his hot, wet mouth. Pleasure washes over you in waves of warm sensation, rushing over your skin and collecting under your cock, making you clench down on nothing. Your hands pull at your quilt and you moan, struggling to keep your hips still. It’s like he’s lit a sparkler in your gut.

He bobs his head, sucking in rhythmic pulses, letting his chin press into the rest of you and burying his nose in your curls. He massage with his tongue and wiggles his head around the way he does when he’s excited.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, and give up on holding your muscles in check, letting your belly flex and your hips cant up to meet him.

He looks up at you from under his lashes, deliberately pouty, with a spark of playful mischief that almost has you laughing – then he starts flicking little patterns with his tongue, and you completely lose track of words. The tension in your guts ratchets tighter, a steady ramp of intensity that has your breath coming fast and your heart pounding. He’s grinning into your junk, the cheeky fuck.

With his lips tight around you, he gives a short, smooth hum, and you yelp. Your thighs snap shut around his head.

“Ack,” he says into your dick, “ow, leggo.” With a sharp movement, he smacks at your leg.

Your whole body jerks, legs shivering, as the sensation screams across your skin and buries itself right under your dick. Your skin tingles and your hands shake. “Fuck, _ah_ , sorry,” you babble, “I’m gonna, oh shit, I’m.”

Quick on the draw, Hypnos, with his eyes on your face, leans back and slaps the back of your thigh.

You yelp, and come. 

You’re always a little self-conscious of how twitchy you get when you climax, but there’s no space left in your brain to care. It’s all crowded out by ricocheting shimmers of bright, hot pleasure. The feeling rushes through your blood, the high of it, like the moment of weightless freefall after jumping off a cliff.

Hypnos watches you shake through it, looking with wide eyes and a gleeful smile. “Mmm. Gorgeous.”

As the last thrums of release shake through your legs, you fall back to the bed, sprawling and wrung out. You’re panting like a racehorse. Your clean laundry is still scattered over the blankets, under you – it’s definitely going to need another wash.

“That’s two to zero,” he says. “I’m winning.”

“Nnuh,” you complain.

He shuffles up and flops onto your chest, kissing your face with aplomb. “How many times can you come, you think? At least one more, for Meg, right? We have an assignment.”

You groan, shaking your head.

“That’s quitter talk,” he chirps. “Besides, I have a very good boner here that is going to waste. Gotta stuff up your sweet holes, get you all sloppy for the picture.”

Gods almighty, you are already so exhausted, but that makes you _clench_. Your oversensitive dick jumps. “Hyps, fuck, gonna kill me,” you slur.

“There’s a little death joke there that I’m not going to make,” he promises, and sits back up on his knees above you. “That was great, by the way. You taste amazing. Kinda sweet? Not what I expected.”

If you weren’t already crimson, you’d blush like a prom date. You’re struck by the genuine delight on his face, the shine of your come on his chin, the wet softness of his lips as he kicks them clean.

With a pleased wiggle, Hypnos picks up a hand to lick at his fingers. Then, for the first time, you see him touch himself. He doesn’t squeeze, or tug, just gently takes his cock and rubs at the base. Eyes on your face, he makes a few rhythmic strokes, tapping at his cockhead with one finger. It’s such a pretty dick, and the curve of it sticks out so nicely from his long, lithe torso.

“Gonna come on me?” you rumble.

A little shock of something runs across his face, and he squeezes his eyes closed. “Nope,” he says. “I have plans.” He opens his eyes again, and they’re blazing with want. “Turn over, baby boy. I’m gonna hurt you, now.”

Holy _shit_.

With a groan, you flop over, tucking up your useless, shaky legs as best you can. You’re trembling, shaky all through your hands and arms, and you can feel your brain struggling not to slip into that sweet, soft place of _obey_ and _feel_ and _take it._ You settle on your belly, legs sprawled out, with your arms tucked under your head. There’s a hoodie under your chest, and the zipper is a bite of cold metal on your nipple.

You can sort of see Hypnos like this, if you strain to look back over your shoulder, but you can’t tell what he’s doing. His arm is moving, a short up-down motion, like he’s jacking off a little faster than before. You shut your eyes for a moment. You want to save this memory, lock it in a box to pull out later, next to Meg’s whip and your first kiss with Than.

“Good,” Hypnos says, and it comes out sharp and pleased. “Hands over your head. I’m going into your toy drawer.”

“Wait,” you squeak, “let me – ”

“If you think I haven’t seen your collection, I don’t know who you think you’re living with,” he says.

With an embarrassed whine, you stretch out your arms over your head and press your face into the pillow. “S’private, you dick.”

With a bounce of the bed, you feel him climb off. Your bedside table rattles. “Psh. You like it. You enjoy a mean bitch like me knowing exactly how much of a slut you are.”

Your gut clenches, a flare of hot arousal flushing through you. “No,” you groan. You clutch your hands together, fighting the urge to pull them down, to hide, to reach out and stop him.

“You think I can’t tell? You’re not subtle. You walk like a slutty cowboy when you’ve let someone fuck you. And you’re not quiet, either – I hear you, every night, begging for it while you wreck yourself with vibrators and silicone.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” you whimper.

“It’s not a bad thing, being a slut,” Hypnos adds, conversationally. “Gets you attention. Gifts, I bet. All those hot boys and girls following you around, sniffing at your heels, dying to get at your cock. Got me interested, didn’t it? How easy you are. How quick you come, even when someone’s barely touching you.”

Without any input from you, your hips grind into the bed, squishing your oversensitive cock into what feels like your one nice pair of jeans. “Fuck, Hypnos.”

“Shut up, whore, I’m working,” he says.

You flinch, and a little punched-out noise squeaks out of you.

There’s a pause in the rustling. “Shit. Was that too much?”

“No, you’re good,” you gasp.

“Okay, cool,” he says, and you feel the weight of him as he clambers back onto the bed. “Got your cuffs. Leave your hands where they are, I’m gonna put them on.”

You try to say something, maybe make a sharp quip to put you back on even ground, but it floats away before you can open your mouth. You just press your face into the pillow and squeeze your hands as tight as you can.

The bed tilts as Hypnos crawls up to get at your arms. You can hear him breathing, heavier than you expected, and you don’t flinch when his cool fingers trip over your skin. Smooth, thick leather wraps around your wrists, a familiar clinging tightness.

“Wiggle,” Hypnos orders.

You do. No discomfort, room enough to tug without cutting off your circulation. These are your favourite cuffs; you’ve worn them enough that the leather’s gotten soft and comfortable, and they’re attached with a little more than an inch of high-quality chain. “S’good,” you say.

“You want me to hook them to the headboard?”

You nod, a new frisson of heat shivering over your skin. “There’s a D-ring on the back.”

Hypnos leans over you. You can feel the heat of his legs, and the tip of his cock, brushing against your back. Your hips twitch.

“So there is! Creative. Okay, try now,” he says.

You wiggle dutifully. Hypnos did a good job with the cuffs. You’re pinned. Completely. Your wrists are stuck above your head, and no amount of pulling is going to get you free. Your stomach swoops in delight.

“If you need to get out, you know how?”

You nod, eager to move on.

“Show me.”

Fuck. With trembling fingers, you reach the back of the right hand cuff and tap on a little hidden pull-tab. If the house is on fire, you yank on that, that cuff falls right off and you’re good to go. “That one,” you mumble.

“Mmm. Good job. Good baby boys get nice treats.”

You screw up your face a little at that one, but Hypnos is ready, and smoothly drags a sharp fingernail all the way down your spine. You yelp, a full-body shiver twitching down to your toes.

“Nice, nice, nice,” he murmurs to himself. Then, he busies himself scratching patterns in the skin of your back.

It doesn’t take long to get you groaning. He switches up his technique at random, sometimes long, slow grazes with both hands, sometimes sharp slashes with a single finger. Your whole back is burning with buzzing, hot pain. Tears prickle at your eyes, threatening to fall.

Hypnos keeps up his talk, as well. “Look at the way you take this. Gorgeous. It’s nothing, just a little back scratch. You’re shivering like I’m beating you or something. You’re so fucking hungry for me, baby boy, love it when I make it hurt, yeah, love it when I rip you up with just my fingers. I don’t need anything but my hand to take you apart, do I.”

You’re a mess. You’re so wet you can feel yourself actually drip, and your cock aches all the way down to the root. Every brush of a finger sends new waves of sensation shimmering across your nerves, gets your thighs twitching and your toes stretching. Your heart hammers in your chest like you’re running a marathon.

Then, all at once, Hypnos pulls back.

You whine, muffled by your pillow. The cool air stings on your back, and with no movement to distract you, you can feel every scratch like it’s been cut with a blade. “H’nos,” you beg, “please, don’ stop.”

A sharp flare of pain, right in the centre of your spine, that sets your back arching and has you crying out. He – he flicked you, right where the ache was sharpest, and it reverberates around your body like an echo in a cathedral.

“Shut the fuck up, slut, you’re not the one in charge right now.”

That goes _right_ to your cock. Your toes curl and your eyes roll back a little.

“Gotta say, baby boy, I’m loving the way you look, all spread out for me. But I have some other stuff I want to try. You’re so delicious like that,” he hums. “Wanna bury myself in you. Just sink right in. You’re so fucking wet, I could do it. Don’t need lube or anything.”

You writhe, pulling at your wrists. “Fuck, yes, do it, fuck me, Hypnos, please.”

“No,” he says. “Not yet.”

Your cheeks burn. “Come on, please, I want you so bad, I need you to fuck me, I want your cock.”

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “It’s gonna happen, baby. In a little bit. Got something to try, first.”

You’re about to protest again when he slaps you, hard, right on the ass.

“Fuck,” you yelp. The bright, tingling pain shoots through your whole body, a burst of sparks behind your eyelids. Your abs jump, legs curling up to protect you the only way your body knows how.

“Lovely,” Hypnos purrs. Then –

Another slap, neatly across the first one.

You yank hard at your arms before you can remember why you shouldn’t, and wail.

“Gods. You’re so fucking hot, baby boy. Can’t wait to get inside you.”

Slap.

Your whole body flinches, pulling away, twisting onto your side. Your breath is catching, hitching, like you’re about to sob.

Slap.

“Ah,” you shriek, voice cracking, “fuck, ah, hurts – ”

“Last one, baby, hold on.”

On the final slap, you’re curled up so tight that the ends of his sharp fingers catch the very bottom of your slit, and a wracking sob rips out of your throat. “Fuck, ah, Hypnos,” you yowl, tears soaking the pillow under your face.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles, and you feel his long hands pressing at the hot burn of your ass. “Zagreus, you’re doing amazing, okay, check in?”

“Good, it’s good,” you manage between huge, hitching breaths. “Please, fuck me, I need you.”

He’s silent for a few painful seconds. “Holy hell, Zag.”

“Please,” you beg.

There’s a sound of fumbling, like Hypnos is going back into your drawer. You squirm. You’re fucking aching, cock throbbing and oversensitive, feeling empty and clenching hard on nothing. You can barely think, imagining how his cock will feel, the blunt press of it pushing inside you – you groan, frustrated tears running down to the corner of your mouth, salty and wet.

“Zag, come on, let me flip you over.”

Hypnos’ hands clutch onto your arms, lifting and shoving until you flop onto your back. The chain holding your cuffs twists, letting you roll without crossing your wrists.

It takes a second for your brain to put together the picture in front of you. Hypnos is bent over you, hovering nervously like he’s afraid to touch. He’s flushed head to toe, redder than you’ve ever seen him. His cock juts out, rock-hard and bobbing as he shuffles on his knees.

“Okay,” he says, “that last bit was, like, unbelievably hot, but also a little scary, so please actually check in with me now where I can see you.”

You grope for words. “I – I’m good, good hurt, just – intense, I like it that way, I don’t want to stop.”

Hypnos shakes his head. “No, not stopping, just taking a second, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, and you notice the heavy rasp lurking in the back of your voice. You’re gonna sound like a pack-a-day smoker by tomorrow morning.

He looks you over carefully, then shakes a little packet. For a second, you think it’s ramen flavouring, before your brain goes back on track – it’s a condom, one of the lubricated ones you picked up at the clinic. “This one good?”

You nod, and let your head flop sideways, keeping an eye on him.

He rips the packet open neatly, and slides the condom on with practiced surety. It’s purple, which is his favourite colour, which makes you smile a little. He tosses the wrapper in the vague direction of your trash bin.

“Zagreus, sweetheart, I want to fuck you now,” he says, and crawls over you until he’s looking you dead in the eye and you’re caught in a cage of his long, thin limbs. “Is that what you want?”

You nod, shaky, and tug on your cuffs. “I want it. Gods, Hypnos, fill me up, please.”

He exhales, a touch shaky as well. “Fuck. Okay. Well, guess I gotta, then. Ass, or your…?”

You nod, a little frantic.

He grins, excitement breaking through his nerves and shining in his eyes. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s.”

He leans down to kiss you.

You rush up to meet him, pressing your lips together, sucking at him, opening up to let him dig into you. He’s back to teasing, dipping his tongue in and then pulling out, refusing to let you past his teeth. You groan, annoyed, and he giggles into your mouth.

He pulls back with a delighted smack of the lips, then ducks back in to peck you on the cheek.

You let him shuffle you around, fixing your pillow and tugging on your cuffs. He shoves your legs around until he’s caught between them, hips almost flush to yours.

You shiver.

“For real, though, if you need lube,” he starts.

“I really don’t,” you say.

“Fine, but tell me.”

“Hurry up and fuck me.”

“Rude,” he says, and it makes you think of earlier, his sweet laughing face and the bright, eager, hungry one he’s wearing now. “Don’t move.”

Then, he’s clutching at his dick, and lining it up.

When the head of it touches you, he groans. “You’re so wet,” he says, astonished, and takes a moment to run the tip of himself up and down your slit. It rubs neatly over the bottom of your dick, and you tilt your hips up, moaning.

It feels fucking amazing. The soft, spongy head of him, rubbing at you, the warmth of him over you, the thick lust in his eyes. You’re so fucking close already, from the spanking and the scratching and his sweet, cruel, concerned, adorable self.

“Come on,” you pant. “Come on.”

“So slick,” he says, and carefully sets his cockhead at your hole. “Fuck. Okay.”

He breaches you with unendurable slowness. You want to rock up, fuck him right into you, wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in, but you’re tied up and pinned and full of the sweet-bitter smell of him. He pushes, groaning, and the little bump of the head slips into you with a glorious, blunt stretch.

You throw your head back, chanting, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Hypnos.”

Gods. Every inch is like a mile. You can feel him, hard and thick and full, in every stretching millimeter. You could swear you can feel him in your guts. It’s slick, almost frictionless, a relentless push against your clutching muscles, filling you up, fucking you open.

After an age, he stops, bottomed out inside you.

“Oh my god,” he says, winded. “Okay. Holy hell. I get it now.”

“Hypnos, please, fuck me, I want you so fucking bad, you feel so good, I can feel you, it’s so good,” you babble. “Can I, please, let me move.”

He leans down and presses himself flat to you, leaning on his elbows and tucking his face into your neck. “Get your legs up, baby boy,” he groans into your ear.

You lift up and catch him, tucking your legs around his waist and dragging him in as far as you can.

After a minute of adjusting, and another of you desperately wiggling your hips, he pulls out, slipping a few inches out of you, then surges back in in a rush.

You yelp, lifting up your hips to help him, tugging uselessly on the cuffs.

He does it again, that slow drag out, that powerful push back in, and it’s rubbing on your insides in the best way, sending little sparkles of heat dancing over your cock and curling up tight in your core. He kisses your neck, licking at your throat and nibbling your ears. You feel like floating. The endorphin rush from Hypnos’ earlier game seeps through you, lifting you higher and pulling you softly out of your own brain, tucking you gently into a dizzying spiral of taut pleasure.

Dimly, you feel yourself give over to that gentle, needy place you know so well. As Hypnos kisses you, licks into your mouth with growing fervour, you sigh open, welcoming him in and all his desires with him.

He’s fucking you harder, now, one hand tucked into your hair and tugging. It makes you whine, the sharp sensation running right to your guts.

“Fuck, Zag, you feel so fucking good, you’re so tight,” he grunts, lips a bare inch from yours, the heat of his breath on your face. “Gonna make me come so good, baby boy.”

The words blossom in your heart, and you smile, feeling tears leak down your face. “Feel so good in me, I love it, I love how you fuck me,” you whisper back.

He looks at you with shock, delight, and deep, deep hunger, like you’re the only thing he’s ever going to want again, and it shivers up your spine to pound a tattoo inside your brain – he’s so sweet and beautiful, and he likes it, he loves to take you apart, to fuck you ‘til you can’t think, ‘til you can barely talk.

You squeeze his hips with your legs, and he curses, picking up speed. His thrusts are rougher, now, bouncing your hips as he fucks into you, his cock only pulling out a little before shoving back into you. “Fuck,” he says, “gotta – the picture.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, so you keep moaning, wiggling underneath him.

He stops, and when you whine, he murmurs, “Just a second, just a sec,” and slaps at your bedside table. “Ha,” he says, and pulls up his cell phone. “Come on, sugar, gotta take a picture for your girlfriend, so she knows how good I treat you.”

You keep your legs wrapped around his waist as he pulls up to sit on his heels. You move with him, keeping his cock inside you, squeezing down on it.

“Fuck, look up at me, sweetheart, come on,” he says, fiddling with the phone. There’s a _click-ping_ , and a _swoosh_ , and he tosses the phone away to clatter on the ground. “Okay, assignment complete.”

Then, he leans in, catches your mouth, and _fucks_ you.

You yelp, fuzziness in your brain going sharp and clear, as he snaps his hips, over and over. Your cry becomes a high, winding moan, breath punching out of you with every one of his thrusts. He’s readjusted something that has your cock grinding on his pelvis on every downstroke, and it’s lighting up your nerve endings like a switchboard. Your legs start to quiver, pulling him tight to you as he pounds into you.

“Zag, baby boy, wanna – gotta feel you come on me, you think you can come like this?” he says into your mouth. You nod, trusting him to feel it. “Good, do it, do it, baby boy, come on my dick.”

You’re coming apart at the seams, losing track of where your body ends and his begins, shivering with need, as you start to come. Your abs shake, your back jerks, and you howl like an animal, clutching him to you with your legs as you clench down.

It bursts slowly, some time-fuzzed explosion of white sparks behind your eyes. He fucks you through it, every movement a new burst of overwhelming sensation, until you’re crying out and hiccoughing with overloaded sobs.

“Amazing, you did so good,” he bites out, and clutches at your hair, at your chest, at your thighs. “Gonna come in you, Zag.”

You nod, pulling him into you with the last of your strength.

“Fuck,” he snarls, one, two, three jackrabbit thrusts that kind of hurt but barely touch you on your cloud of hot pleasure.

You let your eyes slip closed, surrendering the weight of your arms to the pull of your cuffs. Your thighs drop open.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Hypnos says, and starts to giggle.

You lift one sleepy eyelid.

He’s still inside you, flopped over on your belly with his arms splayed at his sides. “Oh my god,” he continues, giggles taking over him, shaking his shoulders. “That was. What even was that.”

You smile at him, letting your eyes close again.

“No, no, don’t fall asleep,” he chuckles, “I gotta – check on you, get your – the cuffs.” With a wet noise, he pulls out, sending a little spark of pleasure right down to your toes.

You feel him fiddle with the cuffs, unsnapping one, then the other, carefully laying your arms down by your side so you don’t slap yourself in the face on accident. There’s a little plastic sound as he takes off the condom.

“Don’t just throw it on the floor,” you slur.

“I wasn’t gonna,” he lies.

With great effort, you roll over, collecting your strength for the walk to your bathroom.

“Hey, hey, don’t get up,” he says, patting at your side.

“Gotta piss. Infections,” you explain.

“You can wait like five minutes.”

“Gotta be now or I’ll forget.”

He blows a little raspberry. “Fine. You want a hand?”

You stare at him for a moment. “Pissing?”

“No, getting to the bathroom, you freak.”

“You can’t call me a freak when you slapped me until I jizzed,” you say.

His eyes narrow. “You came from that, not me.”

“Y’seemed to like it just fine,” you say, adding a lascivious wink.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Yeah,” Hypnos says, “I did. That was amazing, Zag.”

Your face heats, and you stand up.

“Oh, come on, no good review?” Hypnos says. “I was being vulnerable, you dorkus.”

You squish your eyes closed for a second, taking a breath, then settle back to the bed. Time to put your ducks in order. Adult communication, woohoo. “That was great, Hyps. You’re kind of a natural. I haven’t come like that in ages, not with a first-time partner. The scratching was… amazing, actually. Don’t think I’ve tried that before.” You wince. “And I’m gonna be bowlegged for two days.”

Hypnos snorts, pleased as punch. “Fuck yeah, I’m great at sex.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, heart a little fluttery.

He smiles at you, sweet and silly and just a bit nervous. “Can I kiss you again?”

You grin. “I’d like that.”

He leans in, slowly, so you have time to back off, and kisses you on the lips. It’s chaste and sweet and gentle. Like he loves you. Like you love him back.

There are a dozen butterflies in your belly.

He pulls away, pink and pleased, and offers his hand. “Bathroom?”

“Bathroom,” you say, and take it. “I gotta piss. Then you’re gonna soak me in Bactine, and then we’re going to shower, and then we should snuggle for a while.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” he chirps.

“Does, doesn’t it?”

Hearts light and hands entwined, you go.

-

_From: Hypnos (Thanatos’ brother)_

_IMG45563387.jpg_

_wish u were here :(_

The text arrives with a businesslike _ping._ Meg picks up her phone off the coffee table and quickly unlocks it, thumbing through ignored email notifications to pull up the photo.

It’s lovely.

Zagreus, hands bound above his head, lays back on his messy bed, face flushed and eyes wet with overwhelmed tears. His gaze is a little vacant, the way he gets when he’s floating around subspace, and he’s gleaming with sweat. He’s hard, cock red and a little chafed, hole soaked with slick and stretched around the base of what can only be Hypnos’ dick.

With a bubble of smug satisfaction rising in her chest, Meg taps back a quick reply.

_To: Hypnos (Thanatos’ brother)_

_Good job. We’ll debrief later._

A shuddering moan comes from between her legs, and Meg locks her phone, placing it carefully back on the table. “Now, Than, what did I say about noise?”

Than, in an artful heap in front of her, quivers and shakes his head.

“That’s right. No noise. You get another three minutes on the clock.”

Eyes watering, Thanatos stares up at her, beseeching, rolling his shoulders like it will somehow free his arms and let him at his poor, tortured erection. Even if he could, Meg has the dial for the vibrator tied to his cockhead. And she doesn’t feel like giving him a break, just yet.

“Now get back to work,” she snaps, using her foot to press his head back to her cunt. “You have five minutes to make me come, or I’m leaving that thing on all night.”

She really does have the best ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> Zag refers to his genitals with the terms cock, hole, and asshole/ass, and the text uses the term slit twice. He also refers to his chest interchangeably as chest, boobs, and tits.
> 
> HOWDY YALL. Apparently everything I write is either deep dark angst or goofy shenanigans and there does not seem to be an in-between? And, as someone who is actually just sort of starting to write long-form, it is _bonkers_ how annoying having too many fics going is. There are like eight docs open on my laptop. I wrote this one while procrastinating another one, which I started while procrastinating the first one. It is a sexy, sexy hell.
> 
> Bonus fun fic fact: yes, I wrote Hypnos as autistic, but I'm not tagging it that way because it's not actually a major part of the story and I don't want folks to come here for tasty, tasty representation and get stuck in a 13k porno like _where is it!!_ which is sort of how I feel when that happens to me, so. :P (edit: i literally wrote it in deliberately and forgot but he's also got EDS! hypermobility represent!!)
> 
> Recommended Listening: None on this one, but RainyCafe is the best and I cannot recommend it enough.  
> Working title: two fuckboys idiots to lovers 100% speedrun - girlfriend glitch
> 
> Let me know what you think! What did you like? What are your thoughts? Comments feed the writing beast <3


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